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BV 



LIBRARYOf.CONGRESS. 

.59 



OllClx 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



(DD^inisfprs' ^anb-^ook: 



CHRISTENINGS, WEDDINGS. AND FUNERALS. 



COMPILED AND, ARRANGED BY 

/ 

M. J. SA VAGE. 



v^\Sl:.: 



v^4 




GEORGE H. ELLIS, loi MILK STREET. 

IS80. 



or 






Copyright, 1880, 

BY 

George H. Ellis. 




PREFACE. 



I BEGAN the preparation of this manual simply as a Burial 
Service, and for my own convenience. I had found no one 
that just suited me. It was a trouble to select and arrange 
specially for each separate occasion. I wanted more va- 
riety. I did not like to carry two or three books with me, 
each of them being, perhaps, too large for the pocket. The 
habit of reading some appropriate verses, as a part of the 
service, increased this inconvenience. The desire to use 
the fitting thoughts of extra-Biblical writers increased it still 
more. 

Learning my plan, other ministers have expressed a 
desire for copies. This explains why it is published. 

When publication was determined on, it was thought best 
to include the services for Christening and Marriage. A 
service-book for the pocket will be found convenient where 
children are to be baptized or wedding ceremonies are to 
be performed at the house. 

By selection and combination, it is hoped that both vari- 
ety and adaptation to all ordinary occasions will be easily 
attained. 

Boston, March, 1880. 



Contents. 



Page. 

Baptism of Children, 7 

Marriage Service, No. i (Episcopal), 10 

''2, 14 

'' 3 (Brief), 18 

Burial of the Dead, . 19 

Death, 19 

Death of a Child, 21 

Sorrow of Bereavement, 25 

Discipline of Sorrow, 28 

Hope of Immortality, 31 

Burial Service (A. U. A.)- 47 

Service at the Grave, 53 

Poems, 55 

From " In Memoriam," .... Tennyson, • • • • 55 

ToJ. S., " .... 56 

The Secret of Death, Arnold, 58 

Here and There, .... . . Carey, 59 

The Eternal Goodness, .... Wkittier, .... 59 

From " Snow-Bomid," " 60 

A Chant, Procter, 61 

The Good Old Grandmother, , . Ano7i., 62 

The Old Man's Funeral, .... Bryant, 63 

From " Thanatopsis," " 64 

The Covered Bridge, Barker, 64 

The Reaper and the Flowers, . . Longfellouu, ... 65 

Resignation, " .... 66 

Night and Death, White, 67 

The Two Mysteries, A?ion., 68 



CONTENTS. 



Poems ( Conti7tued) — 

The Other Side, ..... 
Auld Lang Syne, .... 
He who died at Azim, . . 
The Pescadero Pebbles, . . 
" He giveth his Beloved Sleep, 

A. R. C, 

G. M., 

Kisagotami, 

The Finished Life, .... 

Better Off, 

Death's Lesson, 

Child with the Snowy Cheek, 
The Home-Seeker, .... 
The Sunset Way, .... 
As God will, 



Ckadwicky 
li 

Arnold^ . 
M.J,S„ 



W. H. S., 



Afion.y 



Page. 

68 
69 

70 

71 

72 

73 
7S 
76 
77 
78 
79 
79 
81 
82 
83 



Blank Leaves (for other selections). 



iSaptism of C!)iltfren. 



And Jesus took a child and set him in the midst ; 
and when he had taken him in his arms, he said 
unto them, Whosoever shall receive one of such 
children, in my name, receiveth me ; and whoso- 
ever shall receive me, receiveth not me, but Him 
that sent me. 

And they brought young children to him, that 
he should touch them ; and his disciples rebuked 
those that brought them ; but when Jesus saw it, 
he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suf- 
fer the little children to come unto me, and forbid 
them not, for of such is the kingdom of God. 
Verily I say unto you. Whosoever shall not receive 
the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not 
enter therein. 

Whosoever, therefore, shall humble himself as a 
little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of 
heaven. 

Take heed that ye despise not one of these little 
ones ; for I say unto you, that in heaven their 
angels do always behold the face of my Father 
which is in heaven. 



8 BAPTISM OF CHILDREN. 

In sympathy, as we believe, with the spirit of 
Jesus, we are about to dedicate this child to God, 
in baptism. This water is the emblem of that 
purity which God desires in the souls of his chil- 
dren, — that purity which was in Jesus, his well- 
beloved Son, through whom we are called to 
pureness and holiness of living. 

Will ye do your best to instruct this child in 
all the truth of God 1 And will ye faithfully en- 
deavor to rear him in the nurture and admonition 
of the Lord } 

Answer, — We will. 

Name this child. 

Afid^ repeatmg the 7tarne^ the Minister shall baptize the 
child, saying: 

I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of 
the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. 

Or, 

In the faith, fellowship, and hope of the gospel, 
I dedicate thee to God, our Father in heaven. 

Let us pray : 

Almighty and everlasting God, who hast prom- 
ised unto us that thou wilt not only be our God, 
but the God and father of our children, admit this 
child, we beseech thee, into the bosom of thy 
Church, into the service of all truth, into the arms 
of thy mercy, and into the communion of saints. 
Grant to him a healthful body, a good understand- 
ing, sweet dispositions, and rich measures of thy 



BAPTISM OF CHILDREN. 9 

Holy Spirit, that being steadfast in faith, joyful in 
hope, and rooted in charity, he may safely pass 
through the temptations of this world, and have 
part with thy faithful children in the life to come. 
Endue these thy servants, O God, with wisdom 
from above. Help them in thine own best way to 
consecrate to thy service this cherished gift of thy 
goodness. By thy Holy Spirit aid them, and all 
who are here present, so to live before thee in love 
and obedience, as finally to see thy face in joy and 
peace eternal. Amen. 

A hymn may here he sung. 

The peace of God, which passeth all understand- 
ing, keep our minds and hearts in the knowledge 
and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ ; 
and the blessing of God, the Father Almighty, be 
amongst us, and remain with us always. Amen. 



Jlarriage cSerfcice, Wo. 1. 



EPISCOPAL SERVICE, 
{With slight changes.^ 

Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here, 
in the sight of God, and in the face of this com- 
pany, to join together this man and this woman in 
holy matrimony; which is commended of Saint 
Paul to be honorable among all men : and there- 
fore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly 
or lightly ; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, 
soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy 
estate these two persons present come now to be 
joined. If any man can show just cause why 
they may not lawfully be joined together, let him 
now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his 
peace. 

And also speaking unto the persons" who are to be7narriedy 
he shall say : 

I require and charge you both, as ye will an- 
swer at the day when the secrets of all hearts 
shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any 
impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined 
together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For 
be ye well assured, that if any persons are joined 



MARRIAGE SERVICE. 11 

together otherwise than as God's law doth allow, 
their marriage is not lawful. 

The 7ninister^ if he shall have reason to doubt of the law- 
fulness of the proposed marriage^ may demand sufficie^it 
surety for his indemnification : but if no i77tpedi77ie7it 
shall be alleged^ or suspected^ the 7ninister shall say to the 
man : 

M., wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded 
wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the 
holy estate of matrimony ? Wilt thou love her, 
comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and 
in health ; and, forsaking all others, keep thee 
only unto her, so long as ye both shall live ? 

The man shall answer : 
I will. 

Then shall the ?ni7iister say U7ito the wo77tan : 

N., wilt thou have this man to thy wedded hus- 
band, to live together after God's ordinance in the 
holy estate of matrimony.? Wilt thou cherish 
and care for him, love, honor, and keep him in 
sickness and in health ; and, forsaking all others, 
keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall 
live } 

The W077ta7i shall answer : 

I will. 

Then shall the mi7iister say : 

Who giveth this woman to be married to this 
man ? 

Then shall they give their troth to each other in this 7na7i7ier, 
The minister^ receiving the wo7na7i at her father'' s or 



12 MARRIAGE SERVICE. 

friend's hands, shall cause the 7nan with his right hand 
to take the woman by her right hand^ and to say after hiin 
as follow eth : 

I, M., take thee, N., to my wedded wife, to have 
and to hold from this day forward, for better, for - 
worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in 
health, to love and to cherish, till death us do 
part, according to God's holy ordinance; and 
thereto I plight thee my troth. 



Then shall they loose their hands; and the woma7t, with her 
right hand taking the man by his right hand, shall like- 
wise say after the minister : 

I, N., take thee, M., to my wedded husband, to 
have and to hold from this day forward, for better, 
for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in 
health, to love and to cherish, till death us do 
part, according to God's holy ordinance; and 
thereto I give thee my troth. 

Then shall they again loose their hands; and the man shall 
give unto the wom.an a ring. And the minister taking 
the ring shall deliver it unto the Tnafi, to put it upon the 
fourth finger of the woman^s left hand. And the man 
holding the ring there, and taught by the minister, shall 
say : 

With this ring I thee wed, and with all my 
worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of 
our Father in Heaven. Amen. 

Then the man, leaving the ring upo7t the fourth finger of the 
woman^s left hand, the minister shall say : 

Let us pray : 

Giver of all good and fountain of all joy, the 



% 



MARRIAGE SERVICE. 13 

guide, support, and felicity of all who put their 
trust in thee : we beseech thee to bless these thy 
servants. Enable them faithfully to perform the 
covenant they have now made in thy presence. 
May their hearts be united in the closest bonds of 
love. May they be counsel and strength, and 
light and comfort, one to the other ; sharers of 
each other's joys, consolers of each other's sor- 
rows, and helpers to each other in all the changes 
and chances of the world. Hand in hand, and 
heart with heart, trusting in each other and in 
thee, may they tread together the path of life. 
Be thou, O Father, their guard and guide. And 
lead them through this transitory world to the life 
eternal. Amen. 

The Lord mercifully with his favor look upon 
you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and 
grace; that ye may so live together in this life 
that in the world to come ye may have life ever- 
lasting. Amen. 



iHarriage .Serbice, Ho. 2. 



Note. — The following service may suit the wants of those who 
do not like the form of giving away the bride, — a relic of the bar- 
baric time when woman was owned and could be given away ; as, 
also, those who — as bride or groom — do not like to take so large 
a part in the words of the service. It can be used without a ring„ 
by omitting that part of the form. In that case, of course, th| 
closing words would be changed, and might read : " I then, bj 
virtue of authority," etc. 

Of course the prayers, in either service, can be extempore, if ^ 
the minister prefers. 

If desired, the opening questions to both the man and the woman ; 
can be asked as one question ; thus omitting the first answers 
(I do), and only answering once (I will). 

The parties st abiding arm in arm^ the Minister shall say: 

Dear friends, we have gathered here this 
ia?terS| to unitc tHs man and this woman in holy 

(^ evening ) •' 

marriage. This is an institution ordained by God 
in the very laws of our being, for the happiness 
and welfare of mankind. To be true, this outw^ard 
ceremony must be but a symbol of that which is 
inner and real, — a sacred union of hearts that the 
Church may bless and the State make legal, but 
that neither can create or annul. To be happy, 
there must be a consecration of each to other, and 
of both to the noblest ends of life. 



MARRIAGE SERVICE. 16 

Believing that in such a spirit as this and with 
such a purpose you have now come, you may join 
your right hands. 

To the Man, 

You, , take this woman, , for bet- 
ter, for worse, for richer, for poorer, to have and 
to hold, from this day forth, as your lawful wedded 
wife ? 

Ans, — I do. 

You will love, honor, cherish, and protect her in 
sickness and in health, in prosperity and in adver- 
sity, and, leaving all other, you will cleave only 
unto her, so long as you both shall live ? 

Arts, — I will. 

To the Woman. 

You, , take this man, , for better, 

for worse, for richer, for poorer, to have and to 
hold, from this day forth, as your lawful wedded 
husband ? 

Ans. — I do. 

You will love, honor, cherish, and care for 
him, in sickness and in health, in prosperity and in 
adversity, and, leaving all other, you will cleave 
only unto him, so long as you both shall live } 

Ans, — I will. 

To the Man, 

What pledge do you offer that you will fulfil 
these vows } 

Ans. — This ring. 

He hands it to the Minister, 



16 MARRIAGE SERVICE. 

To the Woman, 

Do you, on your part, accept this in token of 
the same ? 
Ans, — I do. 

To the Man. 
Handing back the ring. 

You will then place it on the fourth finger of 
the left hand. 

After this is done and they have again joined their right 
hands, 

To the7n both. 

Forasmuch, then, as you have now pledged your . 
mutual vows, and have given and received a ring 
in token of the same, I — by virtue of authority 
vested in me by the State, and in the name of our 
Father in heaven — pronounce you husband and 
wife. 

Let us pray : 

Our Heavenly Father, who hast set the human 
race in families, binding us together by these sacred 
and tender ties, these, thy children, have now, 
with clasped hands and mutual pledges, taken upon 
themselves these life-long obligations. We trust 
that it is indeed true that these outward acts only 
symbolize a union of hearts already made sacred 
by the holy love with which thou hast bound them 
together. From out the innumerable multitudes 
of earth these two have come, looked in each 
other's faces, and are made one. Their converg- 



MARRIAGE SERVICE, 17 

ing pathways have united, and henceforth are to 
be the same. 

If it be possible, may their pathway be ever 
easy and pleasant beneath their feet. May the 
skies be ever sunny over their heads. But, if 
sorrow must come, — as it comes to all, — let the 
pressure of trial only bind them closer together. 
Let the experiences through which they pass only 
make them more and more completely one. With 
clasped hands and united hearts, may they accept 
life's joys and bear its burdens. And, if their sun 
goes down and night darkens their sky, may it at 
least be bright with the stars of hope. 

And when the day of life is over, and the even- 
ing shadows fall, like tired, but happy children, 
may they come home to thee, and find the door of 
the Father's house wide open to their returning 
feet. 

BENEDICTION. 

And now the Lord bless thee and keep thee ; 
the Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and 
be gracious unto thee ; the Lord lift up the light 
of his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace. 
Amen. 



M^xxmQt ^txhitt, Wo. 3. 



J^or those who desire a brief service. 

Standing, as you now do, in the presence of 
God and these witnesses, you covenant each to 
take the other as your companion and bosom 
friend for life. And you solemnly promise that 
you will continue to love, honor, and cherish each 
other ; that you will perform, in conscientious 
fidelity, in sickness and in health, in prosperity 
and in adversity, all the duties resulting from the 
marriage relation, so long as you both shall live ? 

Ans. each, — I do. 

The ring, as in preceding service, if desired. 
Closing words {as in preceding). 

PRAYER AND BENEDICTION. 



Burial of tt)C BeaU. 



Beatfj* 



Man, that is born of a woman, is of few days 
and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, 
and is cut down : he fleeth as a shadow, and con- 
tinueth not. Behold, thou hast made my days as 
a hand-breadth, and mine age is as nothing before 
thee. My days are swifter than a weaver's shut- 
tle. They are passed away as the swift ships. 
There is but a step between me and death. All 
flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the 
flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the 
flower thereof falleth away. 

(Men) dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation 
is in the dust. We are strangers before thee, 
and sojourners, as were all our fathers. Our days 
on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none 
abiding. Ye know not what shall be on the 
morrow. For what is your life ? It is even a 
vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then 
vanisheth away. See, then, that ye walk circum- 
spectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the 
time. 

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all 
generations. Before the mountains were brought 



20 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the 
world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou 
art God. Thou turnest man to destruction ; and 
sayest, Return, ye children of men. For a thou- fl 
sand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when 
it is past, and as a watch in the night. Thou 
earnest them away as with a flood ; they are as a 
sleep : in the morning they are like grass which 
groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and 
groweth up ; in the evening it is cut down, and 
withereth. For we are consumed by thine anger, 
and by thy wrath are we troubled. Thou hast set 
our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the 
light of thy countenance. For all our days are : 
passed away in thy wrath : we spend our years as 
a tale that is told. The days of our years are three- 
score years and ten ; and if by reason of strength 
they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor 
and sorrow ; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. 
Who knoweth the power of thine anger } even 
according to thy fear, so is thy wrath. So teach 
us to number our days, that we may apply our 
hearts unto wisdom^. O satisfy us early with 
thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all 
our days. Make us glad according to the days 
wherein thou hast afflicted us, and the years 
wherein we have seen evil. Let thy work appear 
unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their chil- 
dren. And let the beauty of the Lord our God 
be upon us : and establish thou the work of our 
hands upon us ; yea, the work of our hands estab- 
lish thou it. 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. ' 21 

There is nothing that nature has made necessary 
which is more easy than death. What a shame is 
it, then, to stand in fear of anything so long that is 
over so soon ! It is not death itself that is dread- 
ful, but the fear of it that goes before it. 

Why was such a one taken away in the prime of 

his years ? Life is to be measured by action, not 

by time. A man may die old at thirty, and young 

at fourscore. Nay, the one lives after death ; and 

the other perished before he died. The fear of 

death is a continual slavery, as the contempt 

of it is certain liberty. 

Seneca, 



®eat]^ of a Cfjilti. 

And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth 
upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days. 
And all his sons and all his daughters rose up 
to comfort him ; but he refused to be comforted; 
and he said, For I will go down into the grave 
unto my son mourning. Thus his father wept for 
him. 

And when the child was grown, it fell on a day 
that he went out to his father to the reapers. 
And he said unto his father, My head, my 
head. And he said to a lad. Carry him to his 
mother. And when he had taken him, and 
brought him to his mother, he sat on her knees 
till noon, and then died. And she went up, and 
laid him on the bed of the man of God, and shut 



22 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

the door upon him, and went out. And she 
called unto her husband, and said, Send me, I 
pray thee, one of the young men, and one of the 
asses, that I may run to the man of God, and 
come again. And he said, Wherefore wilt thou 
go to him to-day } it is neither new moon, nor 
sabbath. And she said. It shall be well. Then she 
saddled an ass, and said to her servant. Drive, and 
go forward ; slack not thy riding for me, except I 
bid thee. So she went and came unto the man 
of God to Mount Carmel. And it came to pass, 
when the man of God saw her afar off, that he 
said to Gehazi his servant. Behold, yonder is that 
Shunamite : run now, I pray thee, to meet her, 
and say unto her. Is it well with thee 1 is it well 
with thy husband } is it well with the child } 
And she answered, It is well. 



David therefore besought God for the child ; and 
David fasted, and went in, and lay all night upon 
the earth. And the elders of his house arose, and 
went to him, to raise him up from the earth ; but 
he would not, neither did he eat bread with them. 
And it came to pass on the seventh day that the 
child died. And the servants of David feared to 
tell him that the child was dead : for they said. 
Behold, while the child was yet alive, we spake 
unto him, and he would not hearken unto our 
voice : how will he then vex himself, if we tell him 
that the child is dead } But when David saw that 
his servants whispered, David perceived that the 
child was dead : therefore David said unto his ser- 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 23 

vants, Is the child dead ? And they said, He is 
dead. Then David arose from the earth, and 
washed, and anointed himself, and changed his 
apparel, and came into the house of the Lord, and 
worshipped : then he came to his own house ; and 
when he required, they set bread before him, and he 
did eat. Then said his servants unto him, What 
thing is this that thou hast done ? thou didst fast 
and weep for the child, while it was alive ; but 
w^hen the child was dead, thou didst rise and eat 
bread. And he said, While the child was yet alive, 
I fasted and wept : for I said, Who can tell whether 
God will be gracious to me, that the child may 
live t But now he is dead, wherefore should I 
fast ? can I bring him back again ? I shall go to 
him, but he shall not return to me. 



And they brought young children to him, that 
he should touch them : and his disciples rebuked 
those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, 
he was much displeased, and said unto them. 
Suffer the little children to come unto me, and 
forbid them not : for of such is the kingdom, of 
God. Verily I say unto you. Whosoever shall not 
receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he 
shall not enter therein. And he took them up in 
his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed 
them. 



A Hindoo mother gave birth to a son. When 
the boy was able to walk by himself, he died. The 
young mother carried the dead child clasped to 



24 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

her bosom, and went from house to house, asking 
if any one could give her medicine for it. Some 
regarded her as mad ; but a wise man said : '' I 
cannot cure your son, but I know of one who can 
attend to it. You must go to him : he can give 
medicine." 

Then she went to him, and said, "' Lord and 
master, do you know any medicine that will be 
good for my boy 1 " He answered, '' I know of 
some." She asked, ** What medicine do you re- 
quire } " The sage replied, '' I require a handful 
of mustard-seed taken from a house where no 
son, husband, parent, or servant has died." The 
mother then went about with her dead child, ask- 
ing for the mustard-seed. The people said, ** Here 
is some mustard-seed: take it." Then she asked, 
*' In my friend's house has there died a son, a 
husband, a parent, or a servant } " They replied : 
'* What is this you say } The living are few, but 
the dead are many." 

Then she went to other houses ; but one said, 
'* I have lost my son ; " another, '*I have lost my 
parent;" until at last she said : ''This is a heavy 
task I have undertaken. I am not the only one 
whose son is dead.' In the whole country, children 
are dying, parents are dying." 

The woman went and laid her child down in the 
forest, and then came to the teacher. He said to 
her, '' Have you received the handful of mustard- 
seed } " She answered : '' I have not : the people 
of the village told me, The living are few, but the 
dead are many." Then he said to her, ''You 
thought that you alone had lost a son : the law of 
death rules all." 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD, 25 

Then the mother devoted herself to helping 

others. 

With slight cha?iges, from Conzua/s version of one of 
Buddha^ s Parables. 



Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved 
his head, and fell down upon the ground, and 
worshipped. And said. Naked came I out of my 
mother's womb, and naked shall I return : the 
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; 
blessed be the name of the Lord. 

After this opened Job his mouth, and cursed his 
day. And Job spake, and said. Let the day perish 
wherein I was born. Let that day be darkness ; 
let not God regard it from above, neither let the 
light shine upon it. Let darkness and the shadow 
of death stain it ; let a cloud dwell upon it ; let 
the blackness of the day terrify it. As for that 
night, let darkness seize upon it ; let it not be 
joined unto the days of the year, let it not come 
into the number of the months. Lo, let that night 
be solitary, let no joyful voice come therein. Let 
the stars of the twilight thereof be dark ; let it 
look for light, but have none ; neither let it see 
the dawning of the day. 

For now should I have lain still and been quiet, 
I should have slept : then had I been at rest. 
There the wicked cease from troubling ; and there 
the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest 
together ; they hear not the voice of the oppressor. 



26 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

The small and great are there ; and the servant is 
free from his master. 'Wherefore is light given 
to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter 
in soul ; which long for death, but it cometh not ; 
and dig for it more than for hid treasures ; which 
rejoice exceedingly, and are glad when they can 
find the grave? Why is light given to a man 
whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in ? 
As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so 
panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul 
thirsteth for God, for the living God : when shall 
I come and appear before God } My tears have 
been my meat day and night, while they continu- 
ally say unto me, Where is thy God*? When I 
remember these things, I pour out my soul in me ; 
for I had gone with the multitude, I went with 
them to the house of God, with the voice of joy 
and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday. 
Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? and why art 
thou disquieted in me ? hope thou in God ; for I 
shall yet praise him for the help of his counte- 
nance. O my God, my soul is cast down within 
me : therefore will I remember thee. Deep call- 
eth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts : all 
thy waves and thy billows are gone over me. Yet 
the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the 
daytime, and in the night his song shall be with 
me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. I 
will say unto God my rock. Why hast thou for- 
gotten me ? why go I mourning because of the 
oppression of the enemy ? As v/ith a sword in my 
bones, mine enemies reproach me ; while they say 
daily unto me. Where is thy God ? Why art thou 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 27 

cast down, O my soul ? and why art thou disquieted 
within me ? hope thou in God : for I shall yet 
praise him, who is the health of my countenance, 
and my God. 



Next to the encounter of death in our own 
bodies, the most sensible calamity is the death of 
a friend. It were inhumanity, and not virtue, not 
to be moved. In such cases, we cannot command 
ourselves : we cannot forbear weeping, and we 
ought not to forbear. We may accuse fate, but 
we cannot alter it : it is not to be removed either 
with reproaches or tears. They may carry us to 
the dead, but never bring them back again to us. 
To mourn without measure is folly ; and not to 
mourn at all is insensibility. 

The comfort of having a friend may be taken 
away, but not that of having had one. In some 
respects, I have lost what I have had ; in others, I 
still retain what I have lost. It is an ill construc- 
tion of Providence to reflect only upon my friend's 
being taken away, without any regard to the ben- 
efit of his being once given me. 

Let us therefore make the best of our friends 
while we have them. He that has lost a friend 
has more cause of joy that he once had him, than 
of grief that he is taken away. That which is past 
we are sure of. It is impossible to make it not to 
have been. But there is no applying of consola- 
tion to fresh and bleeding sorrow : the very dis- 
course irritates the grief and inflames it. 

Soieca. 



28 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

W^t discipline of Sorrobj. 



Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lor 
Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God 
of all comfort ; who comforteth us in all our trib- 
ulation, that we may be able to comfort them which 
are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we 
ourselves are comforted of God. Wait on the 
Lord ; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen 
thy heart ; wait, I say, on the Lord. Weeping 
may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
morning. He doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve 
the children of men. And ye have forgotten the 
exhortation which speaketh unto you as unto chil- 
dren, My son, despise not thou the chastening of 
the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him ; 
for whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
sccurgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye 
endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with 
sons ; for what son is he whom the father chasten- 
eth not } Furthermore w^e have had fathers of 
our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them 
reverence : shall we not much rather be in sub- 
jection unto the Father of spirits, and live 'i For 
they verily for a few days chastened us after their 
own pleasure ; but he for our profit, that we might 
be partakers of his holiness. Now no chastening 
for the present seemeth to be joyous, but griev- 
ous : nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peace- 
able fruit of righteousness unto them which are 
exercised thereby. Wherefore lift up the hands 
which hang down, and the feeble knees ; and 
make straight paths for your feet, lest that which 



J 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 29 

is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather 
be healed. 

For which cause we faint not ; but though our 
outward man perish, yet the inward man is re- 
newed day by day. For our light affliction, which 
is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; while we 
look not at the things which are seen, but at the 
things which are not seen : for the things which 
are seen are temporal ; but the things which are 
not seen are eternal. Affliction cometh not forth 
of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of 
the ground. Happy is the man whom God cor- 
recteth. Therefore despise not the chastening 
of the Almighty. For he maketh sore, and bind- 
eth up ; he woundeth, and his hands make whole. 

The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. 
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures : he 
leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth 
my soul : he leadeth me in the paths of righteous- 
ness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will 
fear no evil : for thou art with me ; thy rod and 
thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table 
before me in the presence of mine enem.ies : thou 
anointest my head with oil ; my cup runneth over. 
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the 
days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of 
the Lord forever. 

The Lord is my light and my salvation ; whom 
shall I fear } the Lord is the strength of my life ; 
of whom shall I be afraid 1 Though an host should 
encamp against me, my heart shall not fear : though 



30 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

war should rise against me, in this will I be con- 
fident. One thing have I desired of the Lord, 
that will I seek after ; that I mav dwell in the 
house of the Lord ail the days of my life, to be- 
hold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in hisJ 
temple. For in the time of trouble he shall hide! 
me in his pavilion: in the secret of his tabernacle! 
shall he hide me ; he shall set me up upon a rock. 
And now shall mine head be lifted up above mine 
enemies round about me : therefore will I offer in 
his tabernacle sacrifices of joy ; I will sing, yea, I 
will sing praises unto the Lord. Hear, O Lord, 
when I cry with my voice : have mercy also uponj 
me, and answer me. When thou saidst, Seek yej 
my face ; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord,] 
will I seek. Hide not thy face far from me ; put 
not thv serA'ant awav in ans-er: thou hast been! 
my help; leave me not, neither forsake me, O God 
of my salvation. When my father and my mother 
forsake me, then the Lord will take me up. Teach 
me thy way, O Lord, and lead me in a plain path. 
I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the' 
, goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 
Wait on the Lord : be of good courage, and he 
shall strengthen thine heart : wait, I say, on the 
Lord. 

He that dwelieth in the secret place of the IMost 
High shall abide under the shadow of the Al- 
mighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge, 
and my fortress : my God ; in him will I trust. 
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the 
fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He 
shall cover thee vvith his feathers, and under his 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 31 

wings shalt thou trust : his truth shall be thy 
shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for 
the terror by night, nor for the arrow that fiieth by 
day. Xor for the pestilence that walketh in dark- 
ness, nor for the destruction that w^asteth at noon- 
day. Because thou hast made the Lord, which is 
my refuge, even the ^lost High, thy habitaiton, 
there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any 
plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall 
give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee 
in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their 
hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. 
Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore 
will I deliver him : I will set him on high, be- 
cause he hath known my name. He shall call 
upon me, and I will answer him : I v\-ill be with 
him in trouble ; I will deliver hirn, and honor him. 
With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him 
my salvation. 



^f)c f^ope of Emmnrtalitg. 

For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, 
that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch 
thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof 
wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in 
the ground ; yet through the scent of water it will 
bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant. But man 
dieth, and wasteth away : yea, man giveth up the 
ghost, and where is he t As the waters fail from 
the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up : so 
man lieth down, and riseth not : till the heavens 



32 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised 
out of their sleep. O that thou wouldst hide me 
in the grave, that thou wouldst keep me secret, 
imtil thy wrath be past, that thou wouldst appoint 
me a set time, and remember me ! If a man die, 
shall he live again ? all the days of my appointed 
time ^dll I wait, till my change come. Thou shalt 
call, and I will answer thee : thou wilt have a 
desire to the work of thine hands. My heart and 
my flesh faileth, but God is the strength of my 
heart and my portion forever. 

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. 
But some man will say. How are the dead raised 
up } and wdth what body do they come ? That 
which thou sowest is not quickened, except it 
die : and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not 
that body that shall be, but God giveth it a body 
as it hath pleased him, and to ever}- seed his o^tv 
body. All flesh is not the same flesh : but there 
is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of 
beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds. 
There are also celestial bodies and bodies ter- 
restrial ; but the glorj- of the celestial is one, and 
the glor}^ of the terrestrial is another. There is 
one glory of the sun, and another glory of the 
moon, and another giorj' of the stars ; for one 
star differeth from another star in glor\-. So also 
is the higher life of the dead. It is sown in cor- 
ruption ; it is raised in incorruption : it is sown in 
dishonor ; it is raised in glor}^ : it is sown in 
weakness ; it is raised in power : it is sown a 
natural body ; it is raised a spiritual body. There 
is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body. 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 33 

Howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, but 
that which is natural ; and afterward that which 
is spiritual. As is the earthy, such are they also 
that are earthy ; and as is the heavenly, such are 
they also that are heavenly. And as we have 
borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear 
the image of the heavenly. Xow this I say, 
brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the 
kingdom of God ; neither doth corruption inherit 
incorruption. For this corruptible must put on 
incorruption, and this mortal must put on immor- 
tality. So when this corruptible shall have put 
on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put 
on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the 
saying that is written. Death is swallowed up in 
victoiy. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, 
where is thy victory ^ 

For we know^ that if our earthly house of this 
tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of 
God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens. For in this we groan, earnestly desiring 
to be clothed upon with our house which is from 
heaven : if so be that being clothed we shall not 
be found naked. For v/e that are in this taber- 
nacle do groan, being burdened : net for that we 
would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mor- 
tality might be swallowed up of life. And the 
ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to 
Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their 
heads : they shall obtain joy and gladness, and 
sorrow and sighing shall flee away. And I heard 
a voice from heaven saying. Write, Blessed are the 
dead which die in the Lord from henceforth. Yea, 



34 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their 
labors ; and their works do follow them. They 
shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; 
neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. 
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. 

And the city had no need of the sun, neither of 
the moon to shine in it ; for the glory of God did 
lighten it. And the nations of them \vhich are 
saved shall walk in the light of it ; and the kings 
of the earth do bring their glory and honor into it. 
And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day ; 
and there shall be no night there. 

And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, 
Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he 
will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, 
and God himself shall be with them, and be their 
God. And God shall vv'ipe away all tears from 
their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, 
neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be 
any more pain : for the former things are passed 
away. 

This life is only a prelude to eternity, where we 
are to expect another state of things. We have 
no prospect of heaven here, but at a distance : let 
us, therefore, expect our last hour with courage. 
The last I say to our bodies, but not to our minds. 
The day which we fear as our last is but the birth- 
day of eternity. What we fear as a rock proves 
to be a harbor. He who dies young has only 
made a quick voyage of it. What if death comes } 
If it does not stay with us, why should we 
fear W. 






BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 35 

What it is we know not. And it were rash to 
condemn what we do not understand. But this we 
presume, either we shall pass out of this life into a 
better one, where we shall live in diviner man- 
sions, or else return to our first principles, free 
from any sense of inconvenience. 

That which we call death is but a pause or sus- 
pension, and in truth a progress to life : only our 
thoughts look downward upon the body, and not 
forward upon things to come. It is the care of a 
wise and good man to look to his manners and 
actions ; and rather how well he lives than how 
long. To die sooner or later is not the business, 
but to die well or ill; for death brings us to immor- 
tality. 

Seneca. 



Oh may I join the choir invisible 

Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence : live 

In pulses stirred to generosity, 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 

For miserable aims that end with self, 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 

And with their mild persistence urge man's search 

To vaster issues. — So to live is heaven : 

To make undying music in the world, 

Breathing as beauteous order, that controls 

With growing sw^ay the growing life of man. 

.... This is life to come, 
Which martyred men have made more glorious 
For us who strive to follow. May I reach 
That purest heaven ; be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony ; 
Enkindle generous ardor ; feed pure love ; 
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty ; 
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, 



36 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

And in diffusion ever more intense. 
So shall I join the choir invisible, 
Whose music is the gladness of the world. 

George Eliot. 



\ 



The soul lives after the body dies. The soul 
passes through the gate ; he makes a way in the 
darkness to his Father. He has pierced the heart 
of evil, to do the things of his Father. He has 
come a prepared Spirit. He says: Hail, thou Self- 
Created ! Do not turn me away. I am one of 
thy types on earth. I have not privily done evil W 
against any man ; I have not been idle ; I have 
not made any to weep ; I have not murdered ; I 
have not defrauded ; I have not committed adul- 
tery. I am pure. 

The Judge of the Dead answers : 

Let the soul pass on. He is without sin ; he 
lives upon truth. He has made his delight in 
doing what men say, and what the gods wish. 
He has given food to the hungry; drink to the 
thirsty ; and clothes to the naked. His lips are 
pure, and his hands are pure. His heart weighs 
right in the balance. The departed fought on 
earth the battle of the good gods, as his Father, 
the Lord of the Invisible World, had commanded 
him. O God, the protector of him who has 
brought his cry unto thee, make it well with him 
in the world of Spirits ! 

A portio7t of the Egyptian Book of the Dead^ found in 
ancient tonibs^ '-juritten on papyrus^ — 2000 B.C. 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 37 

May thy soul attain to the Creator of ail man- 
kind. . . . These have found grace in the eyes of 
the Great God. They dwell in the abodes of 
glory, where the heavenly life is led. The bodies 
which they have abandoned will repose forever in 
their tombs, while they v/ill enjoy the presence 

of the Great God. 

Writing in Egy^ptian tombs ^ — 2000 B. C. 



The God of the Dead waits enthroned in im- 
mortal light to welcome the good into his king- 
dom of joy ; to the homes he had gone to prepare 
for them, where the One Being dwells beyond the 

stars. 

Oldest of the Vedas, Hindu, — 1500 B.C. 



Death does not differ at all from life. 

T/iales, Grecian, — born 640 B.C. 



The evil-doer mourns in this w^orld, and he will 
mourn in the next world : in both worlds has he 
sorrow. He grieves, he is tormented, seeing the 
evil of his deeds. 

The virtuous man rejoices in this world, and he 
will rejoice in another world: in both worlds hath 
he joy. He rejoices, he exults, seeing the virtue 
of his deeds. 

As kindred, friends, and dear ones salute him 
who hath travelled far and returned home safe, so 
will good deeds w^elcome him who goes from this 
world and enters another. 

Dhanunapada, Buddha Sakya, Hindu, — born 627 B.C. 



38 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

The man who has constantly contended against 
evil, morally and physically, outwardly and in- 
wardly, may fearlessly meet death ; well assured 
that radiant Spirits will lead him across the lumi- 
nous bridge into a paradise of eternal happiness 
. . . Souls risen from the graves will know eacl 
other, and say. That is my father, or my brother 
my wife, or my sister. The wicked will say tol 
the good. Wherefore, when I was in the world,] 
did you not teach me to act righteously ? O ye] 
pure ones, it is because you did not instruct me, I 
that I am excluded from the assembly of the blest. 
Zendavesta^ Persian^ Zoroaster^ — 589 B.C. 



When thou shalt have laid aside thy body, thou 

shalt rise, freed from mortality, and become a god 

of the kindly skies. 

Pythagoras., Grecian., — born kSo B.C. 



My body must descend to the place ordained, 
but my soul will not descend : being a thing 
immortal, it will ascend on high, where it will enter 

a heavenly abode. 

Heraciitics^ Ephesian., — 500 B. C. 



The soul is the principle of life, which the 
Sovereign Wisdom employed to animate bodies. 
Matter is inert and perishable. The soul thinks, 
acts, and is immortal. . . . There is another invis- 
ible, eternal existence superior to this visible one, 
which does not perish when all things perish. 
Those who attain to this never return. 

Bhagavadgita, Hindu^ — 200 B. C. 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 39 

The soul is not born ; it does not die. It was 
not produced from any one, nor was any produced 
from it. Unborn, eternal, it is not slain, though 
the body is slain. Subtler than what is subtle, 
greater than what is great, — sitting, it goes far ; 
sleeping, it goes everywhere. Thinking of the 
soul as unbodily among bodies, and firm among 
fleeting things, the wise man casts off all grief. 

Buddhist Scripture. 



The effect of water poured on the root of a tree 
is seen aloft in the branches and fruit ; so in the 
next world are seen the effects of good deeds per- 
formed here. 

Buddhist Scriptures., Siam, 



There are treasures laid up in the heart, — treas- 
ures of charity, piety, temperance, and soberness. 
These treasures a man takes with him beyond 
death, when he leaves this world. 

Buddhist Scriptures., Ceylon, 



Man never dies. The soul inhabits the body 
for a time, and leaves it again. The soul is my- 
self : the body is only my dwelling-place. Birth is 
not birth : there is a soul already existent when 
the body comes to it. Death is not death : the 
soul merely departs, and the body falls. It is be- 
cause men see only their bodies that they love 
life and hate death. 

Bttddhist Scriptures., Chiiiese. 



40 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

The soul, which cannot die, merits all the moral 
and intellectual improvement we can possibly give 
it. A Spirit, formed to live forever, should be 
making continual advances in \'irtue and wisdom. 
At death, such a soul is conducted by its invisible 
guardian to the heights of heavenly felicity, where 
it becomes the associate of the wise and good of J 
all ages. . . . 

Is it not strange, my friends, that after all 1 1 
have said to convince you I am going to the society] 
of the happy, you still think this body to be Socra-J 
tes .^ Bury my lifeless body where you please ; but j 
do not mourn over it, as if tJiat were Socrates. . . 

It would be wrong for me not to be grieved to 
die, if I did not think I should go to wdse and good 
deities, and dwell with men w^ho have departed 
from this life, and are better than any w^ho are 
here. That I shall go to deities who are perfectly 
good, I can assert positively, if I can assert any 
thing of the kind. And be assured I hope to go 
and dwell among good men, though I w^ould not 
positively assert that. I entertain a good hope 
that something awaits those who die, and that 
it will be better for the good than for the evil, 
as has been said long since. 

Socrates. Grecia?!^ — 469 B.C. 



It is impossible there should be much hap- 
piness in this life; but there is great hope that 
after death ever}' person may obtain what he most 
Welshes for. This doctrine is not new, but has 
been known both to Greeks and other nations. . . . 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 41 

The soul of each of us is an immortal Spirit, 
and goes to other immortals to give an account of 
its actions. . . . 

Can the soul be destroyed ? No. But if in this 
present life it has shunned being governed by the 
body, and has governed itself within itself, and has 
separated from the body in a pure state, taking 
nothing sensual away with it, does it not then 
depart to that which resembles itself, — to the in- 
visible, the divine, the wise, the immortal 1 And, 
on its arrival there, is it not freed from errors, 
ignorance, fears, wild passions, and all other hu- 
man evils } Does it not in truth pass the rest of 
its existence with the gods .^ . . . 

Those who have lived a holy life, when they are 
freed from this earth and set at large, will arrive 
at a pure abode above, and live through all future 
time. They will arrive at habitations more beau- 
tiful than it is easy to describe. 

Plato, Grecian^ — 429 B.C. 



O glorious day, when I shall remove from this 
confused crowd to join the divine assembly of 
souls ! For I shall go not only to meet great men, 
but also my own son. His spirit, looking back 
upon me, departed to that place whither he knew 
that I should soon come ; and he has never de- 
serted me. If I have borne his loss with courage, 
it is because I consoled myself with the thought 
that our separation would not be for long. 

Cato (as quoted by Cicero)^ Ro?nau, — born 243 B.C. 



42 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

When I consider the faculties with which the 
human soul is endowed, — its amazing celerity, its 
wonderful power of recollecting past events, and 
its sagacity in discerning the future, together with 
its numberless discoveries in the arts and sciences, 
— I feel a conscious conviction that this active, 
comprehensive principle cannot possibly be of a 
mortal nature. And as this unceasing activity of 
the soul derives its energy from its own intrinsic 
and essential powers, without receiving it from 
any foreign or external impulse, it necessarily fol- 
lovv^s that its activity must continue forever. I am 
induced to embrace this opinion, not only as agree- 
able to the best deductions of reason, but also in 
deference to the authority of the noblest and most 
distinguished philosophers. I consider this world 
as a place which Nature never intended for my 
permanent abode ; and I look on my departure 
from it, not as being driven from my habitation, 
but simply as leaving an inn. 

Cicei'o^ Roman, — borm io6 B.C. 



In my Father's house are many mansions. I go 
to prepare a place for you. . . . 

They who shall be accounted worthy to obtain 
that world cannot die any more ; for they are 
equal unto the angels. 

Now that the dead are raised, even Moses show- 
eth at the bush, when he called the Lord the God 
of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God 
of Jacob ; for he is not a God of the dead but of 

the living. 

Jesus Ch7'ist, Israelite. N'ew Testament. 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD, 43 

Not by lamentations and mournful chants ought 
we to celebrate the funeral of a good man, but by 
hymns ; for, in ceasing to be numbered with mor- 
tals, he enters upon the heritage of a diviner life. 

Phitarch^ Grecian^ — 50 A .Z>. 



Is it a misfortune to pass from infancy to youth ? 
Still less can it be a misfortune to go from this 
miserable life to that true life into which we are 
introduced by death. Our first changes are con- 
nected with the progressive development of life. 
The new change which death effects is only the 
passage to a more desirable perfection. To com- 
plain of the necessity of dying is to accuse Nature 
of not having condemned us to perpetual infancy. 
Greg07y of Nyssa^ ea7'ly Christian Father', — 394 A,D, 



What if earth 
Be but the shadow of heaven ? and things therein 
Each to the other like, more than on earth is thought ? 

John Milton f English^ — 1667 A.D. 



In Nature, everything is connected, like body 
and spirit. Our future destination is a new link 
in the chain of our being, which connects itself 
with the present link most minutely, and by the 
most subtle progression ; as our earth is con- 
nected with the sun, and as the moon is connected 
with our earth. When death bursts the bonds of 
limitation, God will transplant us, like flowers, into 
quite other fields, and surround us with entirely 
different circumstances. Who has not experi- 



44 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 



enced what new faculties are given to the soul by 
a new situation, — faculties which, in our old cor- 
ner, in the stifling atmosphere of old circumstances 
and occupations, we had never imagined ourselves 
capable of? In these matters, we can do nothing 
but conjecture. But wherever I may be, through 
whatever worlds I may be led, I know that I shall 
forever remain in the hands of the Father who 
brought me hither, and who calls me further on. 

Herder^ Ger77ian^ — 1774 A.D. 



I trouble not myself about the manner of future 

existence. I content myself with believing, even 

to positive conviction, that the Power which gave 

me existence is able to continue it in any form and 

manner he pleases, either with or without this 

body ; and it appears more probable to me that I 

shall continue to exist hereafter, than that I should 

have existence as I now have, before that existence 

began. 

Thomas Paine^ American^ — 1795 A.D. 



Life is a state of embryo, a preparation for life. 

A man is not completely born until he has passed 

through death. 

B. F7'a7iklin^ A77ie7Hca7i^ — ^11^ A.D. 



When we die, we shall find we have not lost our 
dreams : we have only lost our sleep. 

J. P, Richter, Ge7'77ia7t,— 1774 A.D. 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 45 

Of what import this vacant sky, these puffing 
elements, these insignificant lives, full of selfish 
loves, and quarrels, and ennui ? Every thing is 
prospective, and man is to live hereafter. That 
the world is for his education is the only sane 
solution of the enigma. All the comfort I have 
found teaches me to confide that I shall not have 
less in times and places that I do not yet know. 
I have known admirable persons, without feeling 
that they exhaust the possibilities of virtue and 
talent. I have seen glories of climate, of summer 
mornings and evenings, of midnight sky ; I have 
enjoyed the benefits of all this complex machinery 
of arts and civilization, and its results of comfort. 
The Good Power can easily provide me millions 
more as good. All I have seen teaches me 
to trust the Creator for all I have not seen. 
Whatever it be which the great Providence pre- 
pares for us, it must be something large and gen- 
erous, and in the great style of his works. 

R, W, E;ne7'son, American, — 19/// cent. A.D. 



We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the 
moment of waking from a troubled dream : it may 
be so after death. 

lY. Ha-Li'tho7'7ie, Americaji, — 19//2 ce7it. A.D. 



God is our Father. Heaven is his high throne, 
and this earth is his footstool. While we sit 
around, and meditate or pray, one by one, as we 
fall asleep he lifts us into his bosom, and our 
waking is inside the gates of an everlasting world. 
WiUiain Mo2t7itford^ American^ — 19/// cent. A.D. 



46 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

We go to the grave of a friend, saying, A man 

is dead ; but angels throng about him, saying, A 

man is born. 

H. W. Beeche7\ Americafi, — 19//^ cent, A.D. 



This world is simply the threshold of our vast 
life ; the first stepping-stone from nonentity into 
the boundless expanse of possibility. It is the 
infant-school of the soul. The physical universe 
spread out before us, and the spiritual trials and 
mysteries of our discipline are simply our primer, 
our grammar, our spelling dictionary, to teach us 
something of the language we are to use in our 

maturity. 

Starr Kzng^ America?:. — igth cent, A.D. 



iSurial ^erbtce. 



FROM A. U. A. SERVICE BOOK, 

I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the 
Lord Jesus Christ : he that believeth in me, 
though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and who- 
soever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. 

We brought nothing into this world, and it is 
certain that we can carry nothing out. The Lord 
gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be 
the name of the Lord. 

All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man 
as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, the 
flower fadeth ; but the word of our God endureth 
forever. 

Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in 
God, believe also in me. In my Father's house 
are many mansions : if it were not 'so, I would 
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will 
come again and receive you unto myself ; that 
where I am, there ye may be also. 

Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become 
the first fruits of them that slept. For since by 
man came death, by man came also the resurrec- 
tion of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so 
in Christ shall all be made alive. 



48 BURIAL SERVICE, 

There is one glory of the sun, and another 
glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars ; 
for one star differeth from another star in glory. 
So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown 
in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ; it is 
sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory ; it is sown 
in weakness, it is raised in power ; it is sown a 
natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. 

As is the earthy, such are they also that are 
earthy ; and as is the heavenly, such are they also 
that are heavenly. And as we have borne the 
image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image 
of the heavenly. 

Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood 
cannot inherit the kingdom of God ; neither can 
corruption inherit incorruption. For this corrup- 
tible must put on incorruption, and this mortal 
must put on immortality. 

So when this corruptible shall have put on in- 
corruption, and this mortal shall have put on im- 
mortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying 
that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 

death ! where is thy sting 1 O grave ! where 
is thy victory } The sting of death is sin, and the 
strength of sin is the law ; but thanks be to God, 
who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus 
Christ. 

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, 
unmovable, always abounding in the work of the 
Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not 
in vain in the Lord. 

1 reckon that the sufferings of the present time 
are not worthy to be compared with the glory 



BURIAL SERVICE. 49 

which shall be revealed to us. For eye hath not 
seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man con- 
ceived, the things which God hath prepared for 
them that love him. 

Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 
worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory ; while we look not at the things 
which are seen, but at the things which are not 
seen : for the things which are seen are temporal, 
but the things which are not seen are eternal. 
For we know that, if our earthly house of this 
tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of 
God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens. 

Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth. If ye 
endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with 
sons. Now no chastening for the present seemeth 
to be joyous, but grievous ; nevertheless, afterward 
it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness 
unto them that are exercised thereby. 

The trying of your faith worketh patience. Sub- 
mit yourselves to God, and the Lord will raise 
you up. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, who, according to his abundant 
mercy, hath begotten us again to a lively hope, by 
the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead ; to 
an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and 
that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you. 

We know in part, and we prophesy in part ; but 
when that which is perfect shall come, then that 
which is in part shall be done away. Now we see 
through a glass, darkly ; but then, face to face : 



60 BURIAL SERVICE. 

now I know in part ; but then shall I know even 
as also I am known. 

And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, 
Behold ! the tabernacle of God is with men ; and 
he will dwell with them, and they shall be his 
people, and God himself shall be with them, and 
be their God. 

I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, 
Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead who 
die in the Lord. Even so, saith the Spirit ; for 
they rest from their labors, and their works do 
follow them. 

They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any 
more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor 
any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of 
the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them 
unto living fountains of waters ; and God shall 
wipe away all tears from their eyes. 

And there shall be no more death, neither sor- 
row, nor crying, nor pain : for the former things 
are passed away. 

Behold, I come quickly ; and my reward is with 
me, to give every man according as his work shall 
be. Blessed are they that do his commandments, 
that they may have right to the tree of life, and 
may enter in through the gates into the city. 

Jesus said. Suffer the little children to come 
unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the 
kingdom of God. 

Prayer may here be offered by the Minister^ or said as 
follows : 

Holy Father, be thou blessed both now and 



BURIAL SERVICE. 51 

evermore ; for all that thou doest is good. Thou 
hast seen fit to take away one who is very dear 
to us. Give us, we beseech thee, the spirit of 
filial submission. Enable us to say, It is well, for 
the Lord hath done it. May we feel that thy will 
is better than any thing we can desire for our- 
selves, and may we find comfort in holy and 
happy thoughts of the unseen world. Bring home 
to our hearts the promises of thy Son to those 
who fall asleep in him. 

O Lord, teach us how to live so as to please 
thee. May nothing cause us to forget that we are 
pilgrims and sojourners here, as all our fathers 
were ; and may we set our chief affections on 
those things which are above. Merciful Father, 
forgive us our sins, and raise us from the death of 
sin to the life of righteousness. 

O Lord God, till our hearts with gratitude for 
thy great loving kindness to us. When thou 
takest away, we see how much thou hast given. 
We thank thee for the sweet memory of blessings 
which are for a season withdrawn from us, and for 
the many blessings which yet remain, arid for 
hopes which no earthly troubles can overshadow. 

Blessed be thy name, O Lord, for the assurance 
of eternal life ; for the faith that, when the night 
of the grave is past, a glorious morning will come, 
when thou shalt wipe away all tears from our 
eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither 
sorrow, nor crying, nor pain. Let this immortal 
hope sustain us in our bereavement. May we 
embrace thy promises, and be thankful ; may we 
know that thou art God, and be still. 



52 BURIAL SERVICE. 

O Lord, most high, with thy whole Church 
throughout the world we give thee thanks for all 
thy faithful servants who, having witnessed a 
good confession, have left the light of their ex- 
ample to shine before thy people on earth. 
Blessed be the memory of all thy saints in our 
hearts. Teach us, who now dwell upon earth, to 
practise their doctrine, to imitate their lives, and 
to follow their example as they have followed 
Christ and thee. 

Hear, accept, and answer these our prayers, 
which we would offer to thee in the faith and 
spirit of thy Son. Amen. 

A Hym7i 7nay hei^e be stiJig, 

May the peace of God, which passeth under- 
standing, and the comfort of the Holy Spirit, be 
in your hearts always. Amen. 



^txhitt at t\)t ffirabe. 



Man that is born of woman is of few days, and 
full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, 
and is cut down ; he fleeth also as a shadow, and 
continueth not. 

In the midst of life, we are in death. Of whom 
may we seek for succor, but of thee, O Lord, in 
whom our souls do rest and hope ? 

We must work the work of Him that sent us 
while it is day ; the night cometh, in which no 
man can work. 

There the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
weary are at rest. 

From henceforth blessed are the dead, who die 
in the Lord ; even so saith the Spirit ; for they 
rest from their labors, and their works do follow 
them. 

A Hy7nn may be sting here^ or at the close of the service. 

Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God to 
take unto himself the soul of his child, we there- 
fore commit the body to the ground, earth to 
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the living 
hope that, as he has borne the image of the 



64 SERVICE AT THE GRAVE. 

earthy, so also he shall bear the image of the 
heavenly. 

Let us pray : 

Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of 
them that depart hence in the Lord, and with 
whom the souls of the faithful are in joy and 
felicity : we thank thee for having given to us the 
dear friend whom thou hast now taken away, and 
for the blessed assurance of reunion in a better 
world. Oh, grant that we, with all who are de- 
parted in faith, may have our perfect consumma- 
tion and bliss in thine eternal glory. Amen. 

The Lord^s Prayer inay here be said. 

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit 
be with us all evermore. Amen. 



^oems. 



TO BE READ AS PART OF THE BURIAL SERVICE. 



Note. — Words or phrases may be changed or omitted to adapt the poem 
to the occasion. 



O, YET we trust that somehow good 
Will be the final goal of ill, 
To pangs of nature, sins of will, 

Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; 

That nothing walks with aimless teet ; 
That not one life shall be destroyed, 
Or cast as rubbish to the void, 

When God hath made the pile complete ; 

That not a worm is cloven in vain ; 
That not a moth with vain desire 
Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, 

Or but subserves another's gain. 

Behold, we know not any thing ; 

I can but trust that good shall fall 
At last — far off — at last, to all, 

And every winter change to spring. 

So runs my dream : but what am I ? 

An infant crying in the night ; 

An infant crying for the light; 
And with no language but a cry. 

I falter where I firmly trod. 

And, falling with my weight of cares 
Upon the world's great altar-stairs 

That slope through darkness up to God, 



66 POEMS. 

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope 
And gather dust and chaff, and call 
To what I feel is Lord of all, 

And faintly trust the larger hope. 

This truth came, borne with bier and pall, 
I felt it when I sorrowed most, 
' Tis better to have loved and lost, 

Than never to have loved at all. 



Tennyson. 



God gives us love. Something to love 
He lends us ; but, when love is grown 

To ripeness, that on which it throve 
Falls off, and love is left alone. 

This is the curse of time. Alas ! 

In grief I am not all unlearned; 
Once through mine own doors Death did pass ; 

One went, who never hath returned. 

He will not smile — not speak to me 

Once more. Two years his chair is seen 

Empty before us. That was he 

Without whose life I had not been. 

Your loss is rarer ; for this star 

Rose with you through a little arc 

Of heaven, nor having wandered far 
Shot on the sudden into dark. 

I knew your brother : his mute dust 

I honor, and his living worth : 
A man more pure and bold and just 

Was never born into the earth. 

I have not looked upon you nigh. 

Since that dear soul hath fallen asleep. 

Great Nature is more wise than I : 
I will not tell you not to weep. 

And though my own eyes fill with dew. 

Drawn from the spirit through the brain, 
I will not even preach to you, 

" Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain." 



POEMS. 57 

Let Grief be her own mistress still : 

She loveth her own anguish deep 
More than much pleasure. Let her will 

Be done — to weep or not to weep. 

I will not say, *' God's ordinance 

Of death is blown in every wind ; " 
For that is not a common chance 

That takes away a noble mind. 

His memory long will live alone 

In all our hearts, as mournful light 
That broods above the fallen sun, 

And dwells in heaven half the night. 

Vain solace ! Memory, standing near, 
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat 

Her voice seemed distant, and a tear 
Dropt on the letters as I wrote. 

I wTote I know not what. In truth 

How should I soothe you anyway, 
Who miss the brother of your youth ? 

Yet something I did wish to say . 

For he too was a friend to me : 

Both are my friends, and my true breast 

Bleedeth for both ; yet it may be 
That only silence suiteth best. 

Words weaker than your grief w^ould make 
Grief more. 'Twere better I should cease, 

Although myself could almost take 

The place of him that sleeps in peace. 

Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace : 

Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul. 
While the stars burn, the moons increase. 

And the great ages onw^ard roll. 

Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. 

Nothing comes to thee new^ or strange. 

Sleep full of rest from head to feet ; 

Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. 

Tentiyson* 



68 POEMS. 



" She is dead," they said to him. " Come away: 
Kiss her and leave her, thy love is clay." 

They smoothed her tresses of dark bro^^^l hair ; 
On her forehead of stone they laid it fair ; 

With a tender touch they closed up well 
The sweet, thin lips that had secrets to tell ; 

And over her bosom they crossed her hands, — 
"Come away," they said, "God understands." 

But he who loved her too well to dread 
The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, 

He lit his lamp, and took the key, 

And turned it. Alone again, — he and she. 

Then he said, "Cold lips and breast without breath. 
Is there no voice, no language of death ? 

"See now, I listen with soul, not ear : 
What was the secret of dying, dear ? 

" O perfect dead ! O dead most dear ! 
I hold. the breath of my soul to hear. 

" There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, 
To make you so placid from head to feet ! 

" I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, 
And 'tw^ere your hot tears upon my brow shed. 

" You should not ask vainly with streaming eyes, 
Which of all death's was the chief surprise.'*" 

Who will believe what he heard her say, 
With a sweet soft voice, in the dear old way ? 

" The utmost wonder is this : / hear^ 

And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dea7' : 

^^ A fid am your angel, luho luas your h'ide. 
And know that, though dead, I have never died^ 

Edwin A mold. 



POEMS. 59 

l^cre aniJ S^ijm, 

Here is the sorrow, the sighing, 

Here are the cloud and the night ; 
Here is the sickness, the dying, — 

There are the life and the light. 

Here is the fading, the wasting, 

The foe that so watchfully waits ; 
There are the hills everlasting. 

The city with beautiful gates. 

Here are the locks growing hoary. 

The glass with the vanishing sands ; 
There are the crown and the glory. 

The house that is made not with hands. 

Here is the longing, the vision. 

The hopes that so swiftly remove ; 
There is the blessed fruition. 

The feast, and the fulness of love. 

Here are the heart-strings a-tremble. 

And here is the chastening rod ; 

There is the song and the cymbal, 

And there is our Father and God. 

Alice Cary. 



Efje (Sternal 6ootiness» 

Within the maddening maze of things. 
And tossed by storm and flood. 

To one fixed stake my spirit clings : 
I know that God is good. 

I long for household voices[gone. 

For vanished smiles I long ; 
But God hath led my dear ones on. 

And he can do no wrong. 

I know not what the future hath 

Of marvel or surprise. 
Assured alone that life and death 

His mercy underlies. 



60 POEMS. 

And if my heart and flesh are weak 

To bear an untried pain, 
The bruised reed he will not break. 

But strengthen and sustain. 
And so, beside the silent sea 

I wait the muffled oar ; 
Xo harm from him can come to me 

On ocean or on shore. 
I know not where his islands lift 

Their fronded palms in air ; 
I only know I cannot drift 

Beyond his love and care. 



Wkittier. 



The dear home faces whereupon 
The fitful firelight paled and shone, 
Henceforward, listen as we will. 
The voices of that hearth are still ; 
Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, 
Those lighted faces smile no more. 
We tread the paths their feet have worn, 

We sit beneath their orchard trees, 

We hear, like them, the hum of bees, 
And rustle of the bladed com ; 
We turn the pages that they read, 

Their written words we linger o'er, 
But in the sun they cast no shade. 
No voice is heard, no sign is made. 

No step is on the conscious floor ! 
Yet love will dream, and faith will trust 
(Since He who knows our need is just). 
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. 
Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees ! 
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play ! 
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith. 

The truth, to flesh and sense unknown. 

That Life is ever Lord of Death, 

And Love can never lose its own. 

WhUtUr. 



POEMS. 61 

^ Ci}ant. 

Who is the angel that cometh ? 

Life! 
Let us not question what he brings, 

Peace or strife ; 
Under the shade of his mighty wings, 
One by one, 
Are his secrets told; 
One by one, 
Lit by the rays of each morning sun, 
Shall a new flower its petals unfold, 
With the myster}* hid in its heart of gold. 
We will arise and go forth to greet him, 

Singing gladly, with one accord ; 
" Blessed is he that cometh 
In the name of the Lord ! " 

Who is the angel that cometh ? 

Pain ! 
Let us arise and go forth to greet him ; 

Not in vain 

Is the summons come for us to meet him ; 

He will stay 

And darken our sun ; 

He will stay 

A desolate night, a wearv- day. 

Since in that shadow our work is done. 
And in that shadow our crowns are won. 
Let us say still, while his bitter chalice 

Slowly into our hearts is poured, — 
" Blessed is he that cometh 
In the name of the Lord ! " 

Who is the angel that cometh } 

Death ! 
But do not shudder, and do not fear ; 

Hold your breath, 
For a kingly presence is drawing near. 
Cold and bright 
Is his flashing steel, 

Cold and bright 
The smile that comes like a starry light 
To calm the terror and grief we feel ; 
He comes to help, and to save, and heal. 



62 POEMS. 



Then let us, baring our hearts and kneeling, 

Sing, while we wait this angel's sword, — 

" Blessed is he that cometh 

In the name of the Lord ! " 

A delaide A . Procter. 



Wist SootJ <^ln 6rantim0tf}cr. 

O, SOFTLY waves the silver hair 

From off that aged brow ! 
That crown of glory, worn so long, 

A fitting crown is now. 

Fold reverently the wear}- hands 
That toiled so long and well ; 

And, while your tears of sorrow fall, 
Let sweet thanksgivings swell. 

That life-work, stretching o'er long years, 

A varied web has been ; 
With silver strands by sorrow wrought. 

And sunny gleams between. 

These silver hairs stole slowly on, 

Like flakes of falling snow. 
That wrap the green earth lovingly 

When autumn breezes blow. 

Each silver hair, each wrinkle there. 
Records some good deed done ; 

Some flower she cast along the way. 
Some spark from love's bright sun. 

How bright she always made her home ! 

It seemed as if the floor 
Was always flecked with spots of sun, 

And barred with brightness o'er. 

The very falling of her step 

Made music as she went; 
A loving song was on her lip, 

The song of full content. 

And now, in later years, her word 

Has been a blessed thing 
In many a home, where glad she saw 

Her children's children spring. 



POEMS. 63 

Her widowed life has happy been 

With brightness born of heaven ; 
So pearl and gold in drapery fold 

The sunset couch at even. 

O, gently fold the weary hands 

That toiled so long and well ; 
The spirit rose to angel bands, 

When off earth's mantle fell. 

She's safe within her Father's house, 

Where many mansions be ; 
O, pray that thus such rest may come. 

Dear heart, to thee and me ! 

A iionymotis. 



%\st (©III iWCait's jFumraL 

I SAW an aged man upon his bier ; 

His hair was thin and white, and on his brow 
A record of the cares of many a year, — 

Cares that were ended and forgotten now. 
And there was sadness round, and faces bowed. 
And woman's tears fell fast, and children wailed aloud. 

Then rose another hoary man, and said. 
In faltering accents to that weeping train ; 

"Why mourn ye that our aged friend is dead? 
Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain, 

Nor when their mellow fruit the orchards cast. 

Nor when the yellow woods let fall the ripened mast. 

"Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled, — 
His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky, — 

In the soft evening, when the winds are stilled. 
Sinks where his islands of refreshment lie. 

And leaves the smile of his departure spread 

O'er the warm-colored heaven and ruddy mountain-head. 

"Why weep ye then for him, who, having won 
The bound of man's appointed years, at last, 

Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labors done. 
Serenely to his final rest has passed; 

While the soft memory of his virtues yet 

Lingers, like twilight hues when the bright sun is set 1 



64 POEMS. 

"His youth was innocent; his riper age 

Marked with some act of goodness every day ; 
And, watched by eyes that loved him, calm and sage,. 

Faded his late declining years away : 
Meekly he gave his being up, and went 
To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent. 
" That life was happy : every day he gave 

Thanks for the fair existence that was his ; 
For a sick fancy made him not her slave, 

To mock him with her phantom miseries ; 
No chronic tortures racked his aged limb, 
For luxury and sloth had nourished none for him. 
" And I am glad that he has lived thus long, 

And glad that he has gone to his reward ; 
Nor can I deem that nature did him wrong, 

Softly to disengage the vital cord ; 
For, when his hand grew palsied, and his eye 
Dark with the mists of age, it was his time to die." 

Bryant. 

So LIVE, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that mysterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death. 
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

Bryant. 



Tell the fainting soul in the weary form, 

There's a world of the purest bliss. 
That is linked as that soul and form are linked 

By a covered bridge with this. 
Yet to reach that realm on the other shore. 

We must pass through a transient gloom ; 
And must walk unseen, unhelped, and alone. 

Through that covered bridge, — the tomb. 



POEMS. 65 

But we all pass over on equal terms ; 

For the universal toll 
Is the outer garb, which the hand of God 

Has flung around the soul. 

Though the eye is dim, and the bridge is dark, 

And the river it spans is wide. 
Yet faith points through to a shining mount 

That looms on the other side. 

To enable our feet in the next day's march 

To climb up that golden ridge. 

We must all lie down for a one night's rest 

Inside of the covered bridge, 

David Barker. 



There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, 

And, with his sickle keen. 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 

And the flowers that grow between. 

" Shall I have naught that is fair ? " saith he ; 

" Have naught but the bearded grain } 
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, 

I will give them all back again." 

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, 

He kissed their drooping leaves ; 
It was for the Lord of Paradise 

He bound them in his sheaves. 

" My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," 

The Reaper said, and smiled; 
" Dear tokens of the earth are they, 

Where he was once a child. 

" They shall all bloom in fields of light. 

Transplanted by my care. 
And saints, upon their garmbnts white, 

These sacred blossoms wear." 

And the mother gave, in tears and pain. 

The flowers she most did love ; 
She knew she should find them all again 

In the fields of light above. 



. n; 



66 POEMS, 

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The Reaper came that day; 

'Twas an angel visited the green earth. 

And took the flowers away. 

LongfeUon. 



Itetgnatinn. 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended. 

But has one vacant chair ! 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 

Will not be comforted ! 

Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; 

Amid these earthly damps, 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 

May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no Death ! What seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 

By guardian angels led, 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 

She lives, whom we call dead. 

Day after day we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air ; 
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 

Behold her grown more fair. 



» 



POEMS, 67 

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives, 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, 

May reach her where she lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 

For, when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child, 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 

And though at times, impetuous with emotion 

And anguish long suppressed, 
The swelling heart heaves, moaning like the ocean 

That cannot be at rest, — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay ; 

By silence sanctifying, not concealing, 

The grief that must have way. 

Longfellow* 



Xigl}t anti I3cati}» 

" Mysterious night ! when our first parent knew 
Thee from report divine, and heard thy name. 
Did he not tremble for this lovely frame. 

This glorious canopy of light and blue ? 

Yet, 'neath the curtain of translucent dew. 
Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, 
Hesperus with the host of heaven came. 

And lo ! creation widened in man's view. 

Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed 
Within thy beams, O sun ! or who could find. 

While leaf and fly and insect lay revealed. 

That to such countless orbs thou madest us blind ! 

Why do we, then, shun death with anxious strife ? 

If light can thus deceive, wherefore not life ? " 

Blanco White. 



68 POEMS. 

[In the middle of the room, in its white coffin, lay the dead child, a nephew of 
the poet. Near it, in a great chair, sat Walt Whitman, surrounded by little ones, 
and holding a beautiful little girl in his lap. The child looked curiously at the 
spectacle of death, and then inquiringly into the old man's face. "You don't 
know what it is, do you, my dear?" said he. " We don't either."] 

We know not what it is, dear, this sleep so deep and still; 
The folded hands, the a%^'ful calm, the cheek so pale and chill ; 
The lids that will not lift again, though we may call and call ; 
The strange, white solitude of peace that settles over all. 

We know not what it means, dear, this desolate heart-pain, — 
This dread to take our daily way, and walk in it again. 
We know not to what other sphere the loved who leave us go ; 
Nor why we're left to wonder still ; nor why we do not know. 

But this we know : our loved and dead, if they should come this 

day, — 
Should come and ask us, " What is life t " not one of us could say. 
Life is a mystery as deep as ever death can be ; 
Yet, O, how sweet it is to us, this life we live and see ! 

Then might they say, — these vanished ones, — and blessed is the 

thought ! — 
" So death is sweet to us, beloved, though we may tell you naught; 
W^e may not tell it to the quick — this mystery of death, — 
Ye may not tell us, if ye would, the mysterv' of breath." 

The child who enters life comes not with knowledge or intent. 
So those who enter death must go as little children sent. 
Nothing is known. But I believe that God is overhead ; 
And as life is to the living, so death is to the dead. 

Unknown. 



Climbing the mountain's shaggy crest, 
I wondered much what sight would greet 
My eager gaze whene'er my feet 

Upon the topmost height should rest. 

The other side was all unknown ; 

But, as I slowly toiled along. 

Sweeter to me than any song 
My dream of visions to be shown. 



POEMS. 



69 



At length the topmost height was gained ; 

The other side was full in view ; 

My dreams — not one of them was true, 
But better far ^ad I attained. 

For far and wide on either hand 

There stretched a valley broad and fair. 
With greenness flashing ever}-where, — 

A pleasant, smiling, home-like land. 

Who knows, I thought, but so 'twill prove 
Upon that mountain-top of death. 
Where we shall draw diviner breath. 

And see the long-lost friends we love. 

It may not be as we have dreamed. 
Not half so awful, strange, and grand ; 
A quiet, peaceful, home-like land. 

Better than e'er in vision gleamed. 



J. V/. Chadu'ick 



3uUi ILang 5giu. 

It singeth low in every heart. 

We hear it each and all, — 
A song of those who answer not. 

However we may call ; 
They throng the silence of the breast, 

We see them as of yore, — 
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet. 

Who walk with us no more. 

'Tis hard to take the burden up. 

When these have laid it down ; 
They brightened all the joy of life. 

They softened every frown ; 
But, oh, 'tis good to think of them. 

When we are troubled sore ! 
Thanks be to God that such have been. 

Although they are no more ! 

More home-like seems the vast unknown. 
Since they have entered there ; 

To follow them were not so hard. 
Wherever they may fare ; 



70 POEMS. 



They cannot be where God is not, 

On any sea or shore ; 
Whate'er betides, Thy love abides, 

Our God, for evermore. 

7. W. Chadwick. 



|ge b3})0 W\z^ at ^^im. 

He who died at Azim sends 

This to comfort all his friends : 

Faithful friends ! It lies, I know. 

Pale and white and cold as snow ; 

And ye say, " Abdallah's dead ! " 

Weeping at the feet and head. 

I can see your falling tears, 

I can hear your sighs and prayers ; 

Yet I smile and whisper this, — 

" /am not the thing you kiss : 

Cease your tears, and let it lie ; 

It was mine, it is not I." 

Sweet friends ! what the women lave. 

For the last sleep of the grave. 

Is a hut which I am quitting, 

Is a garment no more fitting. 

Is a cage from which at last. 

Like a bird, my soul hath passed. 

Love the inmate, not the room, — 

The wearer, not the garb, — the plume 

Of the eagle, not the bars 

That kept him from those splendid stars. 

Loving friends ! be wise and dry 

Straightway every weeping eye. 

What ye lift upon the bier 

Is not worth a single tear. 

'Tis an empty sea-shell, — one 

Out of which the pearl has gone. 

The shell is broken, it lies there : 

The pearl, the all, the soul, is here. 

'Tis an earthen jar, whose lid 

Allah sealed, the while it hid 

That treasure of his treasury, 

A mind that loved him ; let it lie ! 

Let the shard be earth's once more, 



POEMS. 71 



Since the gold is in his store ! 

Allah glorious ! Allah good ! 

Now thy world is understood ; 

Now the long, long wonder ends ; 

Yet ye weep, my foolish friends. 

While the man whom ye call dead, 

In unspoken bliss, instead, 

Lives and loves you, — lost, 'tis true. 

For the light that shines for you ; 

But in the light ye cannot see 

Of undisturbed felicity, — 

In a perfect paradise. 

And a life that never dies. 

Farewell, friends ! But not farewell : 

Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell. 

I am gone before your face 

A moment's worth, a little space. 

When ye come where I have stepped, 

Ye will wonder why ye wept ; 

Ye will know, by true love taught. 

That here is all, and there is naught. 

Weep awhile, if ye are fain : 

Sunshine still must follow rain ; 

Only not at death, — for death. 

Now we know, is that first breath 

Which our souls draw when we enter 

Life, which is of all life centre. 

Be ye certain all seems love. 

Viewed from Allah's throne above ; 

Be ye stout of heart, and come 

Bravely onward to your home ! 

La-il Allah ! Allah la ! 

O love divine ! O love alway ! 

He who died at Azim gave 

This to those who made his grave. 



Edwin A mold. 



Where slopes the beach to the setting sun. 

On the Pescadero shore. 
Forever and ever the restless surf 

Rolls up with its sullen roar. 



72 POEMS. 



And grasping the pebbles in white hands, 

And chafing them together, 
And grinding them against the cliffs 

In stormy and sunny weather, 

It gives them never any rest : 

All day, all night, the pain 
Of their long agony sobs on, 

Sinks, and then swells again. 

And tourists come from every clime 

To search with eager care 
For those whose rest has been the least ; 

For such have grown most fair. 

But yonder, round a point of rock. 

In a quiet, sheltered cove. 
Where storm ne'er breaks and sea ne'er comes, 

The tourists never rove. 

The pebbles lie 'neath the sunny sky 

In quiet evermore : 
In dreams of everlasting peace, 

They sleep upon the shore. 

But ugly and rough and jagged still 
Are they left by the passing years ; 

For they miss the beat of angry storms 
And the surf that drips in tears. 

The hard turmoil of the pitiless sea 
Turns the pebble to beauteous gem. 

They who escape the agony 
Miss also the diadem. 



He resteth now. No more his breast 

Heaves with its weary breath : 
Pain sits no longer on the brow 

Where lies the calm of death. 
Sunk to his rest, like tired child, 

He lies in slumber deep, 
Soft folded in the arms of Him 

Who "giveth his beloved sleep." 



M. y. S. 



POEMS. 73 

Nay, doth he rest ? No : day nor night 

He resteth not from praise. 
His spirit, winged with rapture, knows 

No more earth's weary ways ; 
But ever toward the Infinite 

His flight on, upward, doth he keep ; 
For he gives active tirelessness, 

Who " giveth his beloved sleep." 

And while we grope our doubtful way, 

Tear-blinded in the night. 
He reads the meaning of our grief 

Clear writ in heavenly light. 
And looking o'er the path he trod, 

Weary, oft-timts, and rough and steep. 
He knows 'twas goodness led him on. 

And gave to " his beloved sleep." 

We, heart-sore pilgrims, follow him : 

It is not for his fate we moan. 
But that we " see his face no more," 

And now must travel on alone. 
He, standing on the hills of God, 

Doth brightly beckon while we weep. 

We'll rest not here, but hasten on : 

The night is short, the morning's dawn 

Shall greet us rising from our sleep. 

M. J. S. 



^. E. €. 



When falls the night upon the earth, 

And all in shadow lies. 
The sun's not dead : his radiance still 

Beams bright on other skies. 

And when the morning star fades out 

On the pale brow of dawn. 
Though lost awhile to earthly eyes. 

It still keeps shining on. 

Some other world is glad to see 

Our star that's gone away : 
The light whose going makes our night 

Makes somewhere else a day. 



POEMS, 

The feet that cease their walking here. 

Grown weary of earth's road, 
With tireless strength go travelling 

The pathway up to God. 

The hands whose patient fingers now 

Have laid earth's labors by, 
With loving skill have taken up 

Some higher ministry. 

The eyes that give no longer back 

The tender look of love, 
Now, with a deathless gleam, drink^in 

God's beauteous world above. 

The lips whose sweet tones made us ask 

If angels sweeter sung, 
Though silent here, make heaven glad 

With their melodious tongue. 

And, though her body lies asleep, 

Our favorite is not dead : 
She rises from dark death's bright birth, 

" With joy upon her head." 

And she is just our loved one still. 

And loves us now no less : 
She goes away to come again, — 

To watch us, and to bless. 

And though we cannot clasp her hand. 

Nor look upon her face. 
Nor listen to her voice again, 

Nor watch her ways of grace, — 

Still we can keep her memory bright. 

And walk the way she trod. 
And trust she waits until we come 

Up to the house of God. 

Let us be thankful, through our tears, 

That she was ours so long, 
And try to lift our tones of grief 

T' accord with her heaven song. 

M. J. S. 



POEMS. 75 



G. IH. 



Oh, what is all that can be done, 
And what is all that can be said ? 

When all is past, the fact remains 
That he, my noble one, is dead. 

Friends gather round and speak to me. 
But can they make him speak once more ? 

I see them coming, but I hear 

Not his loved footfall on the floor. 

They clasp my hand in s}Tnpathy ; 

But, oh ! his hand is still and cold : 
They look upon me, but his eyes 

Will look no more the love of old. 

friends, your s\Tnpathy is dear, 
But who can give him back to me } 

Empt}' and poor is all the world, 
Since I his face no more can see. 

1 do not mourn a common loss. 

O merchants, have you known of one, 
A truer, cleaner-handed man 

Than he whose earthly work is done .^ 

Tell me, O friends, if anwhere. 

In all your circles, far or near, 
You've found a firmer, truer friend 

Than this fast friend that sleepeth here .^ 

O mothers, who with love and pride. 
In all the years since time begun. 

Have trained your children, tell me where 
YouVe found a truer, tenderer son ! 

O husbands, wives, in all the earth, 
Was any less disposed to roam ? 

One who was purer in his love. 
Or more devoted to his home ? 

O countr}', in your hour of need, 

When swords were crossed in bitter strife. 
What nobler patriot did you find. 

One truer to your perilled life t 



76 POEMS. 

If " trees are by their fruitage known," 
O God, ^yho see'st the " inner part," 

Then search him through, and Thou shalt find 
That he was sound and true at heart. 

But what can this avail me now ? 

Because in him there was no dross. 
Because my memories are so fair, 

Therefore is mine the greater loss. 

But — God forgive me ! — though I bear 
A pain that words can never tell, 

Yet somehow I must still believe 
That what so crushes me is well. 

The memory of his noble life 
Shall still inspire me ; and some day 

The clouds may lift, and light once more 
Shine round about my darkened way. 

I know he'd, have me hopeful still : 

Let me look up, then, through my tears. 

He'll not return; but I shall hope 
To find hwi in the happier years. 



M. y. s. 



Founded on a beautiful Buddhist legend. Kisagotami is the mother's name. 

With fixed white face the mother goes. 

With her dead child at her breast; 
In the house where no one has ever died 

She will find relief and rest. 
" Oh, tell me ! where is the place 

That has ne'er seen a dead white face ? " 

From village to village, from town to town. 

She wanders the country o'er ; 
At her asking, ever the tears fall down, — 

Death has passed through every door. 
" Oh, tell me ! is there no place 

That has ne'er seen a dead white face ? " 



POEMS. 77 

" No place, no place, my child," said then 

A white-haired man, and old : 
" The living are few, to the numbers vast, 

The earth in her arms doth hold." 
" But is there never a place 

That has ne'er seen a dead white face ? " 

" Yes, child," the old man said at last : 

" There is one place we trust ; 
But only they find it who have passed 

Through the gateway of the dust." 

*' Sleep, then, my child : thy face 

Sees the land where death has no place." 

M, y. s. 



I 



There's a beauty of the spring-time 
With its fresh grass and its flowers. 

With the song-birds in the branches, 
And the children's happy hours. 

But there's no less of beauty 

When the leaves turn gold and brown 
In the shortening days of autumn, 

When far south the birds have flown. 

If the rough hand of the tempest 
Tear away the fresh young leaves, 

Over youthful vigor wasted. 

Who can wonder if one grieves ? 

But when from autumn branches 
Drop the brown leaves one by one. 

It seems as fair and fitting 
As the setting of the sun. 

The old man by the fireside 

Looks back through tender tears. 

And says, " With wife and children 
I trod long, happy years." 

The old man by the window 

Looks o'er the city wa3's. 
And says, " Success and honor 

Were mine in long gone days. 



78 POEMS. 

"I've seen the world's fair beauty; 

I've tasted all its sweet ; 
And now, past two and three score, 

My life is all complete. 

"The face of her vrho loved me 

Now beckons far away : 
I've wrought the work God gave me. 

Then wherefore should I stay ? " 

And who, O friends, would keep him ? 

Sound no funereal knell ; 

Say of his life, "'Tw/^j blessed ! " 

And of his death, '''Tis well! " 

M. 7. S. 



"iSetter (BiV 

" He's better off." With words like these 
Kind friends their comfort try to speak. 

None doubts it of a man like him ; 

Yet far off sound the words, and weak. 

The heart that loves is not content. 
However well the loved one be, 

To have him happy far away, 

But cries, " I want him still with me T'' 

That other country may be fair, 

Brighter than aught the earth has shown. 
But better any place with him. 

Than to be left here all alone. 

Thus pleads the heart that God has made,— 
He cannot blame what he has given, — 

For heaven without love could not be. 
And, having love, the earth is heaven. 

The folded hands, the closing eyes. 
The yielding up of failing breath, — 

These not the worst: to tear apart 
Two hearts that truly love is death. 

Since love is all the joy of life, 
In earth below or heaven above. 

Somewhere, we cannot help but trust, 
God keeps for us the ones we love. 



POEMS. 

Like ships the storms drive far apart 
Wide o'er the sea 'neath cloud and sun, 

We'll still sail for the self-same port, 

And meet there when the voyage is done. 

And as we tell the story o'er. 

How we were driven by the blast. 

More sweet will be those sunny hours 
By contrast with the sorrows past. 



M. y. s. 



J3catf)'s ILcsson* 

From these closed eyes, and these white lips 
Where loving smiles no longer play, 

What, to the ear that silence hears. 
Does Death to us, the living, say ? 

*' Swxet friends, the words of love you wish 
You'd said to me while I could hear. 

Take heed, in days to come, you speak 
To living ones who still are near. 

" No more for me can you do aught, 

Save make the flowers bloom where I sleep ; 

But hearts of living ones still ache, 
And eyes of living ones still weep. 

*' Pour out on them the love and care 
You wish you could on me bestow; 

Then, when some other falls asleep. 
O'er vain regrets no tears shall flow." 

Death, then, would teach us how to live, — 
How we shall die need give no care, — 

Live as we'll wish we had ; and then 
Death's face becomes divinely fair. 



M. y. s. 



Child with the snowy cheek. 
Child with the stainless brow. 

Thy white-robed form and look so meek 
Are as an angel's now. 



80 POEMS. 



Death's mystery hath cast 
Its strangeness o'er thy face, 

But the angel marred not as he passed 
One line of its tender grace. 

He but folded the waxen hands, 
Sent sleep on the gladsome eyes, 

And wrapped thee round with the viewless bands 
Of death's greaf, still surprise. 

Now into the upper life, 
Into realms of iniinite peace. 

Thou hast entered at once, untouched by the strife 
That comes with our life's increase. 

Into the infinite love, 
Into the cloudless light, 

Into the welcome that waited above, — 
Below thee, the storm and night. 

Saved from the toilsome way 
We travel with weary feet. 

From the bitterness hid in the cup alway. 
Whose first taste is so sweet. 

The base and the unkind. 
The cruel and the untrue. 

Soiling and stain of the deathless mind. 
Fair child, are not for you. 

For you there is gladness and rest 
Where the white-robed singers stand. 

Where pain is forgotten and sorrow is blest. 
In the soul's own fatherland. 

Where the little ones of earth, 
In gardens and meadows broad. 

Wandering and playing, make musical mirth 
By the soft-flowing river of God. 

But we ! In a world of pain. 
We linger and weep and wait ; 

And we strive in vain any glimpse to gain 
Of thee and the Beautiful Gate. 

For the gate that is gold to thee. 
Golden and jewelled and bright. 

Is wrapped in gloom on the side we see, — 
Its sentinels, Fear and Night. 



POEMS. 81 

But the gate of gloom and of gold 
Will open to us some day, 

On hinges of silence backward rolled ; 
And Fear will vanish away. 

And Night into Morning will change, 
As the light of the Land comes out. 

And a rapture, sudden and sweet and strange, 
Succeed to our trouble and doubt. 

Oh, blessed and strong and sweet 
The hope of that coming time, 

"When thy welcoming hands our hands shall meet 
In the gate of the Life Sublime ; 

In the gate of the City of God; 
In the gate of the Infinite Peace ; 

In the sweet dawn-light that shall shine abroad 
O'er the fields of our love's increase. 

W. H. Savage. 



I. 

Twilight falls : a tiny maiden 
Cometh up the village street ; 

Vagrant locks, all dewy-laden. 
Eager eyes, and tired feet 

Hath the shadowy little maiden. 

Tired of wandering and of playing. 
Up the dim street, see her come ; 

Hurrying now, and now delaying. 
Toward the rest and love of home. 

Comes the maiden from her playing. 
II. 

See again ! a woman hasting 
Down a shadowy, sunset way. 

Loving, anxious glances casting 
Through the twilight soft and gray ; 

Homeward, love-ward she is hasting. 

Laughing children run to meet her 
From the home-door, open wide ; 

Loving words and kisses greet her, 
Pattering feet run by her side ; 

All the home comes forth to meet her. 



S2 POEMS, 

III. 

Look once more ! a pilgrim weary 
Standeth in the twilight gray ; 

All around is strange and dreary, 

And she asks, with plaintive query, 
"Can you show the homeward way? 

Lead me homeward : I am weary." 

Then a Presence stood to guide her, 
Pointed where the way did lie ; 

Gently spoke, and walked beside her 

To a gateway dim and high. 
"Home," she breathed, with restful sigh. 

To the Presence that did guide her. 

IV. 

Homeward still, the tiny maiden, 
Motherhood, love and care laden, 
Age, with weight of years oppressed. 
Homeward turn for love and rest. 
And the home, with open door, 
Waits with " Welcome " evermore. 



W. H. Savage. 



^I}e Sunset WM^. 

The sun that sinks when Eventide 
Sits veiled, with dewy eyes. 

Beside the gateway of the West, 
On other lands doth rise. 

The life that sinks, when failing breath 
Is hushed to stillness at the last. 

Veiled in the mystery of death. 
Is as a star when clouds sweep past. 

Night's gateway is the gate of Dawn, 
Death's gate the gate of Birth ; 

The sun that set is shining on ; 
The soul now lost to earth, — 

Emerging from the brief eclipse 
By evening shadows cast. 

Smiles, star-like, in that other morn 
Where pain and death are past. 



POEMS. 83 

And, spreading fair and sweet before, 
Are fields of rest and peace, 

Where Joy doth sing for evermore, 
And love doth still increase. 

O friends, who take the sunset way 
And fear the coming night, 

Each sunset is a birth of day, 
Your steps approach the light. 

Love cannot die : eternity 
Shall keep your sacred trust, be sure ; 
" For God is Love," and heaven must be 
A home where love may dwell secure. 

Look onward ! High above the tomb 

The omens of the morning shine ! 

The evening has its transient gloom.. 

The morrow comes with beams divine. 

W. H. Savage^ 



If I were told that I must die to-morrow, 

That the next sun 
Which sinks should bear me past all fear and sorrow 

For any one, 
All the fight fought, and all the journey through, 

What should I do ? 

I do not think that I should shrink or falter, 

But just go on. 
Doing my work, nor change, nor seek to alter, 

Aught that is gone ; 
But rise and move and love and smile and pray 

For one more day. 

And, lying down at night for a last sleeping, 

Say in that ear 
Which hearkens ever, " Lord, within thy keeping, 

How should I fear? 
And when to-morrow brings Thee nearer still. 

Do Thou thy will." 



84 POEMS. 

I might not sleep, for awe ; but peaceful, tender. 

My soul would lie 
All the night long ; and, when the morning splendor 

Flashed o'er the sky, 
I think that I could smile, could calmly say^ 

"It is his day." 

But if a wondrous hand from the blue yonder 

Held out a scroll. 
On which my life was writ, and I with wonder 

Beheld unroll 
To a long century's end its mystic clew. 

What should I do ? 

What could I do, O blessed Guide and Master, 

Other than this, — 
Still to go on as now, not slower, faster. 

Nor fear to miss 
The road, although so very long it be. 

While led by Thee? 

Step by step, feeling Thou art close beside me, 

Although unseen ; 
Through thorns, through flowers, whether tempest hide Thee 

Or hea.vens serene ; 
Assured thy faithfulness cannot betray, 

Nor love decay. 

I may not know my God ; no hand revealeth 

Thy counsels wise ; 
Along the path no deepening shadow stealeth ; 

No voice replies 
To all my questioning thoughts, the time to tell : 

And it is well. 

Let me keep on abiding and unfearing 

Thy will always. 
Through a long century's ripe fruition 

Or a short day's. 
Thou canst not come too soon ; and I can wait, 

If Thou come late. 

A nonyffious. 



I 



k 



HOI' 



